


Pack and Play

by badwolfbadwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Breeding, Come play, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Orgy, Pack Dynamics, Possessive Behavior, Sex Toys, Werewolf Mates, breeding kink is blink and you miss it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The full moon does things to Stiles and Derek.  And the pack.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“You’re my mate now.  The mate of an alpha.  With a pack.”</i></p><p>  <i>He’s looking at Stiles sleepily but with an air of </i>don’t you know this? <i>that Stiles constantly finds irritating.  He pulls on Derek’s arms but the man is not budging, exhaustion weighing his limbs down as he pins Stiles between his muscles and the mattress.</i></p><p>  <i>“It’ll make them all want you, like some kind of blood lust.  It’ll make you wet.  Crazy.  It’ll make me want to watch.  Watch them use you.  Then claim what’s mine.”  Derek says the words so casually, like there’s nothing in the world wrong with wanting to watch your boyfriend get fucked by a pack of wolves. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://tnw-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/4905.html?thread=581929#t581929) at the teen wolf kink meme.
> 
> The orgy/multiple partners is in chapter two.

Derek is curled over Stiles, limbs heavy, tongue lazily tracing along the sharp curve of Stiles’ shoulder.  His eyes have fluttered shut and they shift slowly against each other, sweaty and sated.  Stiles likes being the little spoon, likes Derek feeling massive and warm behind him, likes feeling wetness seep out from between his thighs.  He likes scooching backward and rubbing it on Derek while Derek kisses against his nape and stills his hips with huge hands.

“The full moon is tomorrow,” Derek murmurs.  His voice is rough from disuse except for deep grunts.  He wraps one arm up over Stiles’ chest, hooking his fingers around Stiles’ shoulder and holding the slender frame tightly to his body.

“Yep,” Stiles says.  He feels sleep pressing in at the edges and yawns, tilting his head sideways because his hands are too tangled up in Derek to cover his mouth.  He shakes his head slightly, knowing he can’t fall asleep, knowing he has to go home soon or his dad will be calling nonstop.

“It does things to us,” Derek says and Stiles twists to look at him like he’s an idiot.

“Yeah, I know.”

Derek takes the opportunity to kiss Stiles quickly on the lips, licking briefly against the corner of his mouth.  “No, to us.  To me and you.”

Stiles scrunches his brow in confusion.  “Explain.”

“You’re my mate now.  The mate of an alpha.  With a pack.”

He’s looking at Stiles sleepily but with an air of _don’t you know this?_ that Stiles constantly finds irritating.  He pulls on Derek’s arms but the man is not budging, exhaustion weighing his limbs down as he pins Stiles between his muscles and the mattress.

“It’ll make them all want you, like some kind of blood lust.  It’ll make you wet.  Crazy.  It’ll make me want to watch.  Watch them use you.  Then claim what’s mine.”  Derek says the words so casually, like there’s nothing in the world wrong with wanting to watch your boyfriend get fucked by a pack of wolves.  Stiles stiffens in the strong arms, a quick heat sparking in his stomach and sliding upward along his chest.  It colors his neck and cheeks an embarrassed pink and he turns his head so Derek won’t see.  But of course Derek knows, can feel it in the sudden intake of breath and the way Stiles’ heart has tripped in excitement.  

Derek falls asleep and snores while Stiles’ brain whirrs with a million thoughts.  The death grip around his torso eventually relaxes as Derek sleeps, and Stiles slides out and shimmies into his jeans and t-shirt silently.  Even though they’d just had sex, he’s painfully hard again as he zips up the fly and throws on his sneakers.  The drive home is painful and he’s so turned on he has to jerk off in the shower to take the edge off.

 

 

The morning comes and as Stiles lies like a sprawled out starfish on top of his sheets, he is relieved that he feels exactly the same.  A little sore and horny, but nothing magical has happened to his limbs or dick overnight due to some full moon mojo.  He feels perfectly normal.  Well, aside from the tight ball of nerves bouncing through his body.  He is somewhat unsurprised to hear the squeaking of his window and a soft noise as Derek’s feet hit the carpet.

Stiles turns and squints sleepily at the brooding figure that is obscured by the bright light shining around his bulky corners.  “Muh,” Stiles says, though what he meant to say was ‘morning’.

Derek climbs onto the bed silently and tugs at the legs of Stiles’ pajama pants.  Stiles is hard already, his dick tenting his Batman boxers.  Derek shoots him a smug look and crawls forward on hands and knees, pushing his sharp nose into the fabric and breathing in deeply.

“Don’t say hello or anything,” Stiles mumbles as he pushes up onto his elbows to look down at Derek’s muscular back bent over him, hidden only by a thin black t-shirt.

“Hello,” Derek says into the side of Stiles’ dick.  Stiles pushes his hips upward to get Derek’s lips to make more contact but Derek pulls just out of reach. Stiles frowns and stifles a yawn with the back of his hand before flopping down flat.

“It’s morning wood, anyways.  Nothing to do with you.”

Derek looks irritated.  “I thought you wanted me to touch you.  Better watch your pretty little mouth, baby.”

Stiles shuts up then and spreads his legs.  “No, no, please go on.”

Derek pulls down the waistband of the boxers, catching on Stiles' dick and watching it spring upward when the material is finally pulled down far enough.  Stiles is ready, always ready, always hard and wet whenever Derek wants it which is all the fucking time.  Derek’s eyes scrape over Stiles’ form, half-naked from the waist down.  His lean legs are splayed open, cock red and flat against his tummy, the precome leaking down the head and wetting his happy-trail.  Stiles’ gray pajama t-shirt is rucked up to the base of his ribs and he’s smiling upward at Derek with sleepy eyes and long lashes.  

“We’re gonna make a mess of you tonight.”

Stiles shuts his eyes and groans, bringing his hands upward to push against the wall above his head, sliding his body down the sheets and arching forward.  Derek remains infuriatingly out of reach.

“Pull your legs back.”  Derek’s a man of few words, but the words he has are always good ones.  And direct.  And really hot.  Stiles pulls them back and plants his feet on the bed, feeling exposed with his hands still up.  He cracks an eye and sees Derek shuffling around and pulling something from his jacket pocket he had dropped on the floor.  He turns around and Stiles sees what he has: a smoky-gray colored plug.  It’s tear-drop shaped and looks like it’s made of glass and quite heavy.  He settles on the bed and Stiles swallows thickly, feeling his dick get just a little bit harder.

“That’s a big one, there,” Stiles says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.  Derek fishes in Stiles’ nightstand for the lube the boy keeps hidden behind the notebooks, and squirts it out into his hand.  Stiles watches Derek coat his huge fingers and throws his head back onto the pillow, wondering not for the first time what he’s gotten himself into.  

“It’s to get you ready for tonight,” Derek says, and his voice is all deep and honey-coated.  Stiles feels fingers wet and teasing at his hole, swirling around the edge before nudging inward.  The first finger is easy, and Stiles is still a bit relaxed from last night’s sex olympics.  The second makes him mewl, the third a quiet howl.  Derek works them in slowly, always careful with his little plaything.  He’s kissing Stiles’ knee now, thrusting his fingers shallowly, stubble roughing up Stiles’ skin with red marks.

A slammed door makes them both jump and then freeze.  They share a panicked look as they listen intently to the commotion downstairs.  The Sheriff bangs around the kitchen a little longer before yelling up the stairs, “I’m going to work now, Stiles.”

“Okay,” Stiles yells back, completely red in the face.  Yeah, they’d done it in his room a number of times when his dad was downstairs or sleeping.  But talking mid-sex was a little more than mortifying.  Not to mention what would happen if the Sheriff came upstairs.  And that thought makes Stiles shudder slightly in fear.  Stiles remains stiff as a board, listening for the sounds of keys being jangled and the front door slammed to come.  Derek keeps his head cocked but begins to shift his fingers inside, twisting inward and stroking with a little curl that has Stiles buck his hips straight upward and throw a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp.

“Can’t you wait two minutes?” Stiles whispers, voice muffled from under his palm.

“Nope,” Derek says with a mean grin, pushing upward expertly once more.  Stiles writhes on Derek’s fingers with silent grunts, his cock jumping angrily and desperate for touch.

“Bye, Stiles,” the Sheriff yells again as Derek keeps twisting his fingers, now in all the way to the webbing.

“Bye, Dad,” Stiles yells back with a valiant attempt to keep his voice normal and non-strangled.  He thinks he was pretty successful.  The front door shuts and Stiles flops his arms down on the bed in relief, letting out a deep-throated groan as Derek rubs in a circle against his prostate.

“God, you’re evil,” Stiles says, but he’s grinning and pushing his hips forward.  “Need you.  Your mouth, your dick.  Please?”  He knows Derek likes it when he’s vocal, when he asks, when he talks dirty.  So he’s surprised when Derek shakes his head and pulls out his fingers.  

“Nope.”

Stiles makes an indignant huff and humps his hips forward.  “What?  Why not?”

Derek’s slicking up the plug now, and that cheers Stiles up a little.  Derek grabs under Stiles’ knee with one hand and slides his forearm under the other, leaning forward.  The move pushes Stiles’ legs backward and makes him completely open and exposed.

“Need to save it for tonight,” Derek says as he eases the tip of the plug inside.  His thick brows dip inward slightly as he watches Stiles open up around the broad girth of the glass.  Derek pushes slowly and Stiles lets out little mewling hurt noises as the plug stretches him incredibly wide at the thickest part.  Then it’s in all the way, the base snug against his skin, his ass clenching down on the neck and holding it in tightly.

“Good boy,” Derek says as his fingers play along Stiles’ rim, petting him.  Stiles glows with the praise, filled up with the heavy weight and achingly hard.

“Can I…”  Stiles swallows and opens his eyes, looking at Derek’s pleased and possessive features.  Damn is he sexy.  “Can I come?  Before tonight?”

Derek’s smile is kinder now.  “Yes.  But smelling of sex will make it worse for everyone.”

Stiles shifts against the sheets, fingers drifting down his stomach to fist his own cock.  “It’s okay.”

Derek releases Stiles’ legs and crawls up him to fit his mouth against Stiles’, his tongue lingering and soft.  He reaches down to wrap his hand over Stiles and begin a slow rhythm of tugs.  “You sure, baby?” he asks against Stiles’ lips.

Stiles nods enthusiastically.  “Yeah I-”  Stiles pauses to swallow.  “I want it.”

Derek changes his grip so he’s at the base of Stiles’ cock and Stiles is at the top, sweeping over the head with each stroke.  “You want them on you while I watch?  Want them to hold you down?  One to fuck your tight ass and one to fuck your smart little mouth?”

Stiles has his forehead pressed to Derek’s and he feels his body growing taut, straining.  Derek is still fully clothed and Stiles grasps onto the short sleeves of his t-shirt with desperate fingers.

“And then when they’re finished using you, their come will be seeping out, onto your thighs.  And I’ll kneel down, put your legs over my shoulders, suck it all out of you.  Fuck you with my tongue until you’re coming again.  Fuck you with my big dick until you’re crying.  While they all watch me mark you up, claim you.  Make you mine.  Is that what you want, baby boy?”

“Derek,” is all Stiles can say, and his high whine is cut off by a choked sob as they tighten their hands around his dick.  Stiles bucks upward one final time and then goes absolutely rigid as he comes hard, muscles clenching on the plug inside of him.  His come splashes onto his stomach and soaks up into the bottom of his t-shirt as Derek strokes him gently through the waves.  Stiles sinks down into the mattress, jelly-like and mute, and Derek kisses him on the eyebrows and eyelids and down to the tip of his nose.

“You’re so beautiful.  And you’re mine.  We’ll show them all tonight.”

Stiles dick makes one more valiant twitch at Derek’s words and he works his jaw open and closed in an attempt to talk.  

“Oh my _god_ ,” Stiles finally says.  Derek wipes his hand off on Stiles’ thigh, effectively ruining the moment.  But then he leans down and licks up a line of thick come from Stiles’ belly.  He laps at the quivering muscles while Stiles wriggles beneath him, one hand moving to grip at Derek’s dark hair.  Derek moves back up to kiss Stiles, the salt-sweet flavor of his own come hot against their tongues.

“You sure, baby?” Derek asks, and Stiles knows he’s asking about tonight, about everything.

Stiles doesn’t hesitate.  “Yeah.”

There’s a moment where Derek looks almost sweet and shy, but then he’s kissing Stiles with his dirty mouth and bounding up off the bed.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To do stuff,” Derek says unhelpfully, throwing on his jacket and looking entirely too smug.  And also really turned on, judging from the tightness of his jeans in the front.

“Oh.  Thanks for explaining that, then.”  Stiles pulls on his Batman boxers once more, making a face as the plug shifts inside of him with each quick movement.

“Stay inside.  You’ll smell too good to resist, otherwise.  Me or the others.”

Stiles pouts, putting on his pajama pants again.  “You’re going to make me wait all alone?”  His voice has a little whine in it that he’s not very proud of.

“I’ll come back and get you.  You should be in my loft before it gets dark.  Once the moon comes out it will get a little… difficult.  I haven’t seen it before but I’ve been told.”  Derek’s eyes go dark and he moves forward to draw Stiles up and into a fiercely possessive kiss, his hand sliding down into the boxers to push on the base of the plug and make Stiles groan into his lips.  “Be a good boy while I’m gone.”  Then he’s gone and out the window, and Stiles feels tingly all over.

“Okay, bye then,” Stiles says to the empty room before flopping down on his bed with nothing to do but wait for Derek to return.  So he runs his hands over his body, feeling the sweat cool and the plug heavy inside.  And he waits.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the full moon does things to Derek and Stiles, and Derek must assert his dominance over the pack and his mate. And it involves a lot of sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely [thatworldinverted](http://thatworldinverted.tumblr.com) for being an awesome beta and an awesome person. <3

Derek pulls up in his Camaro hours later, just as the sun is dipping low.  He rails on the horn and Stiles gets up from his bed, irritated that the stupid oaf doesn’t even have the decency to knock on his door like an ordinary person.  He swings his legs over the side of the bed and feels the immediate shifting of the plug inside of him, coupled with a lightheadedness he was sure wasn’t there when he was horizontal.  He closes his eyes and the world swims momentarily.  The darkness makes him hyper-aware of his skin and the slow itch that is traveling upward from his toes.  The sensation tingles strangely before turning into a sudden rash of heat that spreads along his thighs and curls hotly into his belly.  Stiles parts his legs and feels his hips push forward without any conscious thought.  He’s hard, so hard, from nothing but the thought of Derek waiting for him.

He counts to five— _breathe in, breathe out_ — and stands up with effort.  His feet feel heavy as he crosses his room and walks down the stairs, then out the front door.  What had he even done in the hours since Derek had left?  Stiles’ mind feels hazy, like he’s drunk, like that one time he had so much of Scott’s moonshine that he had giggled and bit Scott right on the stomach, telling him he was infected with ‘the bite.’  When he finally makes it to the car door he yanks it open and flings his body into the seat haphazardly.  Only then does he see Derek’s white-knuckled grasp on the steering wheel, and the tightness in his jaw as he stares straight forward at the dash.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says, reaching for the seat-belt.  He’s used to Derek’s moods by now, and knows the best way to deal with them is to just ignore them until he turns it around.

“I could smell you.  All the way down the street.”  Derek’s still not looking at him, his fingers running along the leather of the steering wheel now, tracing patterns with his fingertips.  Like he can’t keep his hands still.

“Yeah?” Stiles replies, because he can’t be bothered to come up with any more words.  Besides, his brain’s not quite lost the haze yet.  In fact, Derek being closer is ramping it up and making his skin hot all over.

They drive in silence to Derek’s loft, Stiles playing idly with the seatbelt the entire time.  He shifts and rubs his ass on the leather seat, making a slight grunt that causes Derek to look over with a razor-sharp glare and a taut neck.

They stumble up the stairs, Derek giving in finally and shoving him bodily against the big sliding door of the loft.  He brushes his nose along the hood of Stiles’ sweatshirt, pushing up against Stiles’ back.

“You’re mine, Stiles,” Derek whispers hotly.  The words tickle against Stiles’ skin, worm down into his stomach and settle there, hot and weighty.  “They can touch you because I say so.  Because I want to watch.  Because I want to have you in front of everyone.”

“Yeah, yes.  Please, Derek.”  Stiles is panting shallowly, his leaking dick already making a mess in his pants.

They separate enough just to get the door open, and then Derek is pushing Stiles forward by the shoulders and shepherding him into the center of the room.  Stiles can barely think as he puts one foot in front of the other, concentrating on not tripping, Derek still burning against him right at his back.

“What do you think, baby?  Bed or couch?”

Stiles looks between the two, at the hard concrete covered by a thin rug, and Derek’s bed, rumpled with gray sheets thrown haphazardly over the top.

“Bed.”

“Alright, then.  Go lie down.  Take your clothes off.  No touching.”

Derek turns and leaves Stiles there, confident that Stiles will obey.  Stiles shucks off his hoodie and t-shirt, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them off his slim hips.  He debates leaving on the boxers for a split-second before sliding them down as well and kicking everything into a small pile near the foot of the bed.  The mattress is firm beneath his hands and knees and he shuffles to the center, dropping a shoulder to plop down into a heap of limbs.  He squirms backwards until his head is hitting the headboard and he reaches up to grasp against the leather to ground himself temporarily.  The waiting is terrible.

Stiles hears the loft’s large door slide open, and Derek talking quietly.  He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see, doesn’t have to think about what is forthcoming.  He hears the wolves move closer, the click of heels on concrete and the softer shuffle of sneakers, the slightest whisper of cotton on skin and hot breath being exhaled.  The bed dips and Stiles breathes in sharply, smelling the perfume mixed with sweat and heat.  He feels hands wrapping around his shoulders, picking him up to a seated position then leaning him back down between two thick, clothed legs.  His back is pressed up against a very hard dick, and stubble burns pleasantly at the side of his cheek.   _Derek._

Stiles peeks open an eye, and the wolves spread out in front of him make everything ten million times more real.  Isaac and Boyd and Erica all looking smug and hungry, with Scott lingering behind them. Stiles tenses up slightly and feels Derek rubbing his cheek against him, whispering sweetly into his ear, stroking along his sides.  The movements are meant to soothe him, placate him, and they work.  Stiles opens his eyes all the way, nerves and excitement fluttering around in his stomach, curling over Derek’s declarations of love and possession.

“You’re being so good for me.  Spread your legs, baby.  Love you.”

Stiles is good, he’s always a good boy for Derek.  He parts his thighs and draws his legs backward, pushing on the bed with his heels so he’s more firmly in Derek’s grasp.

Isaac moves forward first, his smile tentative and sweet on his boyish face.  His dirty blond curls are falling messily over his forehead and he leans down to nuzzle against Stiles’ face.  His skin is so smooth along his cheek, so different from Derek’s that it’s a little bit shocking.  Stiles feels himself tilt his head back in an unconscious display of submission.  Derek is solid behind him, his chest moving evenly with his breath, grounding Stiles.  Isaac noses at his jaw, his lips drawing delicately down the length of his neck before peppering him with light kisses along the collarbone.  Stiles is sweating everywhere, eyes half-shut with lust.  Isaac’s kisses are tentative, his long fingers moving to grasp Stiles gently by the base of his skull, tipping him upward into a deep and needy kiss.  

Stiles is again struck by the difference, the baby-soft skin, the crinkle around Isaac’s eyes as he smiles almost shyly, the way his fingertips are smooth and warm and uncalloused.  Isaac kisses like he means it, though, the softness edged with a bit of steel.  He becomes firmer, pulling Stiles’ hands where he wants them, and this is something Stiles is familiar with.  Their bodies melt against each other and Isaac is so tall that they don’t quite line up correctly.  They mash together anyway, kissing and licking and groping, and Isaac tilts his head to get better access to Stiles’ kiss-swollen lips.  The position is awkward, though, and Isaac seems to grow impatient, pulling Stiles up and off of Derek.  Derek growls ever so slightly in his throat, and the sound thrills Stiles just a little.  He knows he’s Derek’s; he knows that through and through in the very way his body aches to be back in contact with his mate.  But he also knows that he’s right there, hovering, watching.  And that in itself is a bit thrilling as well.

Stiles lets Isaac pull him up onto his lap, and Isaac is naked, and when did that happen?  Their dicks brush against each other more satisfyingly in this position and Stiles is soon bouncing on Isaac’s thighs in a grinding motion, pushing their bodies together with a sloppy, quick-paced rhythm.  Isaac’s hand sneaks around Stiles waist slowly, almost like he’s not sure he’s allowed.  And then he stops kissing Stiles and is looking over his shoulder, and Stiles realizes that that’s exactly it.  He’s asking Derek for permission.

Derek must have nodded or given some type of silent wolfy communication, because Isaac’s fingers are probing against him and grasping onto the edge of the plug, rocking it inside of him.  It makes Stiles stiffen completely, the plug feeling so huge, his body achingly desperate already.  

“Roll over.  Hands and knees,” Derek says, but it’s Isaac’s hands that move him, push him off and manhandle him into position.  Stiles hangs his head, flushed red all over, partly from embarrassment and partly from ridiculous arousal.  He sees Derek’s calves and toes beneath him, looks over the dark hair covering the muscles as Isaac moves behind him, gripping the plug and beginning to work it out slowly.  Stiles mewls and closes his eyes, and when the plug pops out with a squelch he clenches downward, feeling incredibly odd, the need to be full painful in his dick.  He can smell the come that Derek has plugged up in there from last night and listens to the chorus of growls from the wolves as the scent reaches their noses as well.  Stiles knows this is all some kind of weird scent-marking ritual which he doesn’t understand but really, he’s too far gone to care.  Especially when Isaac grabs his hips and plunges a wet finger right inside, getting him slicked up as quick as possible.

Isaac wastes no time lining up and pushing in quickly, Stiles so open already from the plug that the flared head just slips inside and rests there while Stiles sobs with need.  And then he’s thrusting inward and it feel so absolutely fantastic, Stiles’ sobs turning into full-throated moans.  He feels himself pushed forward with each thrust until he’s shoved down onto the bed, face in Derek’s lap and ass being pulled up by Isaac’s strong, careful fingers.  He turns his head, trying to get close enough to Derek’s cock but the wolf moves away slightly, just out of reach.  It makes Stiles whine, high and needy, something inside him welling up and making him beg for contact with his mate.  For come from his mate.  To be marked by his mate.  He knows this is part of the game, though, and grits his teeth against his baser instincts.  Derek reaches forward and grasps Stiles by the wrists, pinning them down near his head while Isaac pounds into his ass with a hard, punishing rhythm, chasing after his own pleasure.

“Fuck him hard.  Use him.”  Derek pushes Stiles’ wrists down further into the bed, squeezing hard enough to be uncomfortable.  Stiles pushes his head down against Derek’s calf, licking and biting what he can before letting out a howl as Isaac grasps his hips and plows into him with deep, merciless strokes before stiffening and coming, keeping up his brutal rhythm all the while.  He slows gradually, his panting raspy above Stiles, his fingernails digging in deep enough to hurt.  Stiles moans, unable to move from where he’s pinned between the two wolves.  His cock feels like it’s about to fall off, and he’s actually surprised he didn’t come from the pounding, even though no one’s even so much as touched his dick.

Isaac pulls out quickly, replacing his cock with a long finger, the slide absurdly easy from all of the come and lube that is stuffed up inside Stiles.  He pushes down firmly, and Stiles comes with a surprised shout, shooting onto the sheets hard enough to reach Derek’s toes.  The orgasm shudders out of him painfully, his body desperate to be held tightly but instead all he has is Isaac’s lone finger and Derek’s hands on his wrists and muscle in his mouth.  He feels so used, Isaac’s come dripping out of him while Derek watches with glowing eyes, and he twitches out one last spurt of come before dropping heavily into a heap.

He barely has a second of rest before he’s being turned over, Boyd hovering above him looking huge and powerful, his muscles sleek and controlled.  Stiles has literally just come but he feels his body struggling to ramp up again, the dull throb in his dick growing more and more painful by the second.  He’s still soft as Boyd pulls him onto his lap and spreads his legs, sliding in with one smooth thrust that makes Stiles’ eyes roll into the back of his head.  It feels so good to be full, though, good to have so many hands on him.  Derek  has Stiles’ wrists pinned high above his head now, his arms stretched out, elongating his body until he feels like he’s taut as a bowstring.

Stiles is tight from his orgasm and he has to bear down to make the slide easier, his insides still spasming and clamping down, making it hard for Boyd to thrust initially.  Boyd is so big it’s ridiculous, makes Stiles keen with the big cock stretching him, so different from Isaac— thicker than Derek but not longer.  It’s not really what Stiles craves, not his mate, not who he belongs to.  But he doesn’t care, he just wants cock, wants to be fucked good and hard, wants come shoved up inside of him until he’s wailing, and he doesn’t know where all of these thoughts are coming from but he needs it right now, please and thank you and _fuck yes_.  He spares a glance sideways, somewhat surprised to see Isaac on his knees with Scott thrusting in deeply to his mouth but is quickly distracted by Boyd’s cock suddenly bottoming out deep inside of him.

Boyd makes little grunting noises as he starts to push his hips into Stiles with slow strokes, turning to smile as Erica kisses him fully and then moves to straddle Stiles’ chest.  She is naked and gorgeous, her blond hair falling down to tickle Stiles’ nose and cheek, her breasts hanging down attractively.

“Hello, Stiles,” she says with a grin, bending down so they are swaying against his lips.  “Are you going to open that sweet mouth to me?  Do you want us to use every part of you?”  Stiles parts his lips obediently, flicking his tongue up to catch against her nipple.  He tries to latch on but is unable to move forward much due to the expert pinning of his limbs and body in all directions.  Boyd picks up his thrusting and Erica quits the teasing and bends down further, pushing her breast right against Stiles’ mouth and rubbing her pussy along Stiles’ stomach and chest.  Stiles sucks inward, curling his tongue around the tightening nipple, eager to please and thrilled when he feels both Derek’s hands tensing on his wrists and Erica groaning above him.  She pulls herself up and turns around swiftly, sitting down right on top of Stiles’ face and sliding her wet folds over his nose before angling down enough that he can suck her clit into his mouth.  She grinds into him, seeming to match pace with Boyd’s powerful thrusting, both of them working him into a frenzy.

He’s come too soon to be hard again, but he feels the sensations building up like a slow burn, like he’s spitted and turning, his flesh heating with the flames.  Boyd picks up Stiles’ hips and fucks in quicker now, the strokes quick and shallow, while Erica writhes on top of him.  Stiles can smell her sharp scent as she grinds into his face, his tongue lapping messily.  He’s caught between the two bodies, his blood singing, his desire to please and be pleased, to have their mark on him rising up like a flood.  Erica slides forward so Stiles can briefly fuck his tongue inside of her before moving back again and dropping down on him.  Stiles wraps his tongue around her clit and feels her start to tremble above him, the first signs of her impending orgasm as her thighs tighten around his ears.  She leans forward and scratches along his stomach, Boyd mimicking her forward movement, the angle of his dick changing with the new position.  Stiles finally realizes that the wet noises he hears are the two of them kissing, and he laps at Erica gently as she shakes on top of him, her pussy clenching rhythmically on his sloppy tongue.  Boyd shudders and groans as well, and Stiles feels a wet fullness seep through his innards as Boyd pumps him ‘til he’s glutted.  Stiles’ lips are coated with Erica’s wetness, the fluid sticky and a little thick.  He’s covered in come, rolling in it, the smell almost pungent in the air.  

Erica falls off of him and curls in on herself, and Stiles closes his eyes as Boyd eases out.  Stiles can feel the streaks of his come oozing out between them, wetting the sheets.  The scent of sex intensifies, Stiles’ dick fattening up fully along his stomach as he feels Derek’s gaze on him with hawk-eyed sharpness.  The air grows thicker, and Stiles sucks in hot breaths in anticipation.  He glances around, sees the wolf pack circling around him, around him and Derek, Derek pulling him in tight against his chest and spreading his legs.

He pushes two large fingers inside Stiles, starting to fuck him with just the tips.  Stiles feels so full, like he might burst, like he’s a glass filled to the brim and spilling over.  He startles when he feels Derek’s fangs against his neck, his mate’s wolfish side coming out to snarl as he starts to make a show of his dominance over Stiles and the pack.  Derek’s still very much in control though, his nails remaining human, fingers shoved inside Stiles’ tight hole and curving in a tiny circle while Stiles blinks back tears from the overstimulation.   _Mine_ , Derek’s everything says, from the way he manhandles Stiles backwards, and the way his hand comes up to wrap around Stiles’ throat.  Stiles lets his body go slack, pliant, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder and sighing with the pleasure of having his mate’s body against his.  His lust is ramping up again, his dick painfully hard, his insides burning from the thorough fucking he’s received not once but twice, and aching from being held open by the plug the entire day.

“Mine,” Derek verbalizes, pushing his fingers deeper into Stiles and making him squirm.  He picks Stiles up easily by the hips and lowers him down right on his dick, pushing in so easily that Stiles thinks he should be embarrassed.  But he’s not.  His hole has been stretched so much, his body used in every way, stinking with come and other’s sweat.  Derek seems to want to touch him everywhere, to erase the other hands and scents, to mark him up.  He puts Stiles on his spread knees, the boy’s back pressed to his front, and thrusts up shallowly.  It’s not the deepest position, but it puts Stiles on full display and lets them both watch as the other wolves drink their fill of his body and the primal way Derek is staking his claim.

The wolf bites at Stiles’ neck, turning him sideways so he can press his teeth over Stiles’ bobbing adam’s apple, licking and tasting the boy’s flow of life beneath his hold.

“Please, Der.  Please, I’m yours,” Stiles begins to moan out as he just sits on Derek’s cock, unable to get much leverage to move due to the position and the way Derek has his hands clamped down on him.

The words seem to light a fire in Derek, and he quickly snaps his hips upward, burying himself into the tightness and making Stiles wail.

“Yes, fuck yes,” Derek grunts as he pushes Stiles forward onto his hands and knees.  They fumble and grope for a minute to get stabilized, and then Derek is fucking forward with absolutely brutal strength.  Stiles snaps his teeth together and clenches them tight, feeling each thrust spark through his body as his thighs shake with the strain.  His muscles are over-stressed, his wrists hurt, his ass is fucking killing him, but those thoughts all flit to the back of his mind as he thinks _mate mate mate_ with each pound of Derek’s hips.

“Who do you belong to?” Derek bellows, his knot growing thick, rubbing against Stiles’ rim.  Stiles begins to cry, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, his lashes clinging together with the wetness.

“I’m yours, Derek.  Yours.  Please.”

Stiles hangs his head and can hear Derek growling above him.  He starts to panic suddenly, wonders if this is punishment because he let the other wolves take him and mark him.  Maybe this was all some kind of game to see if Stiles would refuse, and Derek was going to fuck him hard, slap him across the face, and then leave.  Fear claws it’s way upward and Stiles begins to cry in earnest.

“Please, Derek.  Only you.  Please, please.  I only want you.”

Derek pauses and when the silence stretches, Stiles thrusts his hips back in desperation.  

“Please.  I want your knot.  I want you to come inside me, knot me, breed me.  Please, Derek.”  Stiles is beyond the point of caring that there are four other people in the room, three of which have come on or in him recently.  He pushes his wet face into the sheets and tries to shove his ass as high into the air as he can, just like he knows Derek likes, his mate’s silence making him fearful.

Then he hears a deep grunt and Derek’s knot is swelling and huge, his come pumping inside of Stiles.  It’s way too much, so far beyond overstimulation that Stiles sobs in pain with it, and sobs with the pleasure of being filled up by his mate.

“Only you,” Derek echos, falling on top of Stiles and sinking his teeth down into the boy’s shoulder.  Stiles comes in a wet shudder, pressed fully into the sheets, throat too dry to even rasp out Derek’s name.  The weight of Derek on top of him is heavy, the knot sealing them together, and Stiles draws in shallow breaths as his body calms beneath his mate’s feathery touches.  He feels light-headed and weak, like he’s been wrung out one too many times, and he sinks into the wet mess, boneless and content.  

Stiles thinks he falls asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s on his side with Derek pressed up against him, kissing his shoulder lazily and murmuring with warm breath that tickles gently.  In the light of the morning Stiles doesn’t feel the hot flash of lust, the stirring in his blood.  It’s a much duller ache now, and he tugs Derek’s arm tight around his waist and yawns loudly.

“Where’d everyone go?” Stiles slurs, but Derek says nothing, just keeps up the tender press of lips on skin.  Stiles pushes back against the larger body, his muscles protesting at the slight movement.  He knows he’ll be feeling it for days and will have Derek’s marks on his skin for longer, but the thought warms him.  He wants everyone to know, wants everyone to see, plain as the red-ringed wrists and carefully sucked bruises.  He belongs to Derek.  And Derek— Derek belongs to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I troll around on tumblr as [badwolfbadwolff](badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com) – please say hi!


End file.
